Letters From Mexico
by AliyahNCIS
Summary: Words he wrote but never sent. Could be seen as a "before the story" addition to the Only in My Dreams Universe, specifically chapter one of What We've Always Wanted.


_Dear Jen_

Gibbs looked at the two words he'd written on the page, then tore the lined sheet from the old spiral notebook he was using and tossed it towards the garbage can in his room at Mike Franks' beach house. Chewing on the end of his pen, he tried again.

_I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye but now you know how it fe-_

He cut off that sentence almost immediately. First of all, the use of 'I'm sorry' was a violation of the ever vigilant Rule #6. But in truth, he didn't want to make her hurt anymore, especially not the way he had hurt after Paris. Still, maybe there was a different way to communicate his regret without starting a trans-written word argument. He ripped that page from the notebook and landed yet another crumpled ball in the wastebasket across the room.

_I wish I'd said goodbye to you._

Gibbs stared into space for a moment, for once pleased with the words. At least it was a start. He was going to write more but considering he'd spent an hour just to get this far, maybe he'd try again tomorrow. After all, it had only been three days. Time to go embrace some Mexican relaxation.

**NCIS**

Five days later Gibbs finally made it back to his letter, now having something new to share.

_I've been remembering more about Paris today. What happened to us Jenny?_

Sighing, Gibbs put the pen down after the first sentence. It hurt too much to think about Paris. Especially when he still wasn't sure exactly why she'd left him. Or why she hadn't given them a second chance once she became Director. He could see it in her eyes every time they reminisced that she still cared, that she missed him. And yet they continued keeping each other at arm's length.

_I miss you too, Jen_, Gibbs thought, then shook his head. That part was most certainly not getting written down. Mike stuck his head in the door, announcing with great flourish that it was cantina time. So Gibb set the notebook aside and followed his old boss, glad to have the opportunity to drown the memories he'd recovered in several shots of Tequila.

**NCIS**

By the end of his second week away from NCIS and his team, Gibbs was staring again at the two measly lines he'd managed to write so far. Looking out the window as the ocean waves, Gibbs saw himself and Jenny, playing in the shallows on a rare day off from one of their many undercover assignments.

They were splashing each other and laughing, and then she ran and he chased after her, catching her abruptly and sending them both tumbling into the warm water. Drenched and dripping but with smiles still plastered on their faces, Gibbs remembered leaning in to kiss Jenny, and knowing then that he'd fallen in love with her and now there was no turning back.

_Do you ever think about that day at the beach?_ he wrote. _That's when I knew we really had something_.

In danger of admitting too much, of feeling too much if he thought about it anymore, Gibbs closed the book and dropped both notebook and pen on the floor as he headed out to take a hammer to the loose boards on the front of Mike's house. On days like today he really missed his boat.

**NCIS**

Three weeks, four days, six hours since he'd left his team with "Semper Fi" and what felt like a final goodbye. When Gibbs remembered the tears filling Abby's eyes and how she'd tried to protest his decision, the fear in Tim's face, Tony's shock and resignation, and Ziva's brave smile that covered over how much she was going to miss having him there, not to mention the quiet despair Jenny had stared after him with, Gibbs wondered if he'd made the right decision.

But nearly a month had passed and he still couldn't stop seeing the Navy ship blow up on the MTAC screen in his nightmares, he couldn't sleep without flashes of Shannon and Kelly that tore at his heart until he'd drunk enough liquid to drown out their smiles and happy laughter.

A bottle of Corona in hand now, Gibbs lay on his bed staring dismally at the ceiling and hearing ocean waves in the background. His hand fell to the floor and the notebook was at his fingertips. Rolling over took a little more effort than usual, he didn't know what number of drink this was today, and he set the bottle on the table by a lamp and grasped the spiral bound book and pen. This time he was just drunk enough to admit the words on paper.

_I miss you tonight Jen. Where are you?_

**NCIS**

After nearly two months, Gibbs had finally learned to become numb to the memories as he tried to forget the family he'd lost, the love who had left, and the team he'd essentially abandoned. His days were filled with sleeping more than he had in years, long walks on the beach, afternoon siestas as mandated by Franks, and many, many hours spent at the cantina with Mike, drinking his way into oblivion.

Occasionally he looked at the now closed notebook on the table in his room, but he didn't open it as much as before. It was hard to try to forget the redhead in his dreams if he was writing letters to her. Still, sometimes a lucid moment presented itself in which writing still sounded like a good idea.

Nostalgic tonight, Gibbs sat on the deck with his notebook and pen, having declined to join Mike for, "Just one more glass." Looking up, he picked up the pen again.

_You'd like the stars here Jenny. I remember how you loved to lay on the grass in Serbia and look at the stars. I never saw them this bright in DC. Wonder if you're watching them tonight too._

The time difference made that impossible and Gibbs frowned at the words, lifting his pen to scratch them out. But he hesitated, unable to bear the thought of any more missed words. So he left them, put the book down, and settled back to watch the stars.

**NCIS**

Gibbs had been in Mexico for three months before Mike finally talked him into helping with the broken down truck sitting in the sand by his front door.

"Come on Probie," Mike said one day. "Time you were doing something besides moping all day."

Gibbs glared at him. "I do not mope."

Mike raised one eyebrow. "Mmhmm, if you say so." He shook his finger at Gibbs. "This is about a woman Jethro and I don't want to hear it. Never did fancy a lady Director anyhow. Now help me get this thing running."

Gibbs eyed the rusted old vehicle. "This hunk of junk is never going to make it back on the road."

Mike grunted. "Mebbe not. But it'll give you something useful to do." He handed his friend a wrench and pointed. "Start with that. I've been meanin' to replace it."

Gibbs took the tool and sighed, but did as he was asked. Inside he was thinking. Mike put me to work today Jen, maybe now I won't have time to think about why I wish you were here or I was there.

**NCIS**

Rubbing a hand over his unshaven face, Gibbs looked at his long, four months worth of grown out hair, and pulled on an old green visor, grabbing his hammer on his way out the door. The tropical storm season was coming and Mike's roof leaked, badly. Four hours later, just as Mike was grumbling about Gibbs interrupting his siesta, Camila showed up.

"Hola gentlemen," she said with a smile.

"Gentleman?" Franks barked a laugh. "She can't be talking to you and me Gunny."

"You? No. Senor Gibbs, si," the dark haired Mexican beauty smiled, glancing up at Gibbs, who let her take his drink. "I hope you are not letting him work you so hard."

"Nah," Gibbs responded, smiling slightly.

Mike turned around. "He's livin' here for free, what does he expect?"

"Perhaps someday he will tell us," Camila answered, looking at Gibbs as if he might be in a sharing mood.

Franks took in the look Camila was giving his friend and immediately put a stop to it. "Hey," he protested, getting in between the two, "how much do I owe ya?"

Camila rolled her eyes and laughed, having experienced the same kind of behaviour each time she visited the small beach house. Neither man had a claim on her, though Mike flirted shamelessly and got jealous just as easily. "Twenty-five American. And you have a phone call."

"Okay," Mike said, looking down to count the bills out of his wallet.

"Not you!" Camila resisted when he reached for the phone. "Leroy Jethro." She pushed a few buttons and held the phone out to him.

Gibbs looked at it distastefully. He'd come to Mexico to get away from phones and people, Mike and Camila were the only ones allowed in his circle now. "Who is it?"

"A woman," Camila said casually, "and she sounded muy upset."

Gibbs walked closer to take the phone. Franks laughed behind him. "Probably that lady Director of yours, about to have a nervous breakdown."

Trying not to pay attention to his former boss, Gibbs put the phone to his ear, gave Camila a look that she understood was about Mike, and answered the phone automatically, the same way he had ever since he'd joined NIS in 1991. "Yeah, Gibbs."

**NCIS**

Hanging up the phone, Gibbs looked out over the water and knew it was time to go home. His family needed him, Ziva was calling in a favour he rightfully owed her, and though he didn't want to admit it, he missed the last eight people in the world who meant something to him.

The last line of a letter that had taken four months to put into words, he scribbled into his notebook while packing.

_I'm coming home Jen. Who knows? Maybe I'll even let you read these silly thoughts of mine. Yours, Jethro._

He was half asleep on the Red Eye flight before remembering he'd left the notebook at Mike's. Perhaps it was for the best though, Gibbs thought after a moment of frustration. Some things were better said face to face. And now he knew exactly what he was going to say when he walked into Jenny's office. _I really missed that view_. Yeah, that would do nicely.

Smiling briefly, Gibbs closed his eyes and thought about how to get Ziva out of the mess she was in. He was going home.


End file.
